Play@YSDC

The house is well on the outskirts of town with little more than a roughly beaten horse-worn track that links it to town but that's the way her papa always liked it when he was still around. The house, itself, is big and damp and creaky and was falling apart shortly after the family built it. Mama's in the kitchen, cooking something up that smells like boiled potatoes and rabbit, and the guts of that rabbit and its skin is still sitting outside near where the trap had been pulled in. She's humming and smiling for the first time in a long time like she's suddenly happy and knows what to do. Well, that's what she said, anyway. That she knows what to do now. That she knows how to bring papa back. Maybe that's true, maybe not, but at least she's smiling. Who knows where everyone else is? Her brother's playing hide and seek again. He always seems to be doing that.

Franklin, where is he? He always runs to play before dinner...

For a brief moment Cynthia considered asking mamma, but then mamma never really seemed to care where Franklin was. Also, it was the first time she's seen mamma cook in sometime and so she decided not to bother..

I need to find him..or she'll be mad..

"aww.."

Cynthia nearly cries out as she stabs herself with a needle. She is working on mending a Sunday dress for one of the town's more prominent families. A drop of blood falls and pools out over the pink flowers. She attempts to muffle her own cries because mamma would be mad if she saw the mess she had made..

They'd make us pay and we don't have anything...

She puts the dress down and goes to fetch her brother.

Her brother isn't out in the wood shed or the old, dilapidated barn with its constantly creaking frame, but he could be down at either Lake Toluca or the little graveyard that's a few minutes away.

He was always a bit morbid like that. Always interested in the dead.

Or staring at the glittering lake.

It's not like he had as many chores to do. Mama always treated him best of all.

Maybe he wanted to go visti gram and grandaddy...?

Cynthia Ann walked the hastily cleared path through the birch trees that led to the cemetary.

Granny always like the white flowers..

Walking on along the path Cyntia Ann keeps her eyes out for the flowers her grandmother always loved, but she could only find find some rather droppy looking marigolds.

With the petals of the bright flowers being the lightest point in the forest she makes her way to the cemetary. When she arrives she will walk to the grave of her grandparents while keeping an eye out for Franklin.

Franklin sits on the base of a big, white statue, swinging his legs and humming along to himself.

He perks up as he sees his sister. "Oh, good morn' Cynthia, mama's happy today, isn't she?"

"Mama said to me she'll see daddy again soon. He's comin'. She said that, for sure."

"I know Frankie, I want daddy back too."

He's dead, but he still believes he'll come back for us..

She walks over to their grave and drops the flowers near the base of the tomb stone.

"They always loved us..."

She turns and walks towards Franklin.

"We better get back the stews almost done.."

She puts one hand on his shoulder and motions back towards the house.

Franklin shakes his head. "I don't know, Cynthia. Is Mama mad at us? Something 'bout her scares me."

"I been feelin a little jiggy about her too.."

Cynthia's hands fall to her side.

"But she make some rabbit and potatoes. Besides why you got to be worried? Mama always let you off easy like duck soup. She make me whacked every night!"

She looks up towards the sky and the sun's rays make her squint.

"The lake sure did sparkle on my way to get cha though"

She smiles even though she's exhausted from sewing all day.

He shakes his head sadly. "I-I don't know, sis. She talks to me sometimes and ... I don't like what she's saying. I don't know, but she says papa will be back soon. She can make him come back but she gets this bad look in her eye ... I don't know."

"I know a lotta people wanna send mama out to the looney."

She sighs and leans up against a near by tree.

"She's gone and lost it since daddy died.but it's gettin worse huh "

"Uh huh," says the boy, staring up at the sky. "What we gonna do? Mama's gonna come callin' for us but I got this bad feelin' about it all."

"Well where else we gonna go, Frankie?"

She moves away from the tree.

"Pappa is gone so is gram and grand daddy."

Cynthia Ann tries to think of aunts or uncles near by that the could stay with for even one night.

Frankie sighs and shrugs. He opens his mouth to say something when:

"Children! Foods on the table!" comes their mother's voice, high and shrill through the tree tops.

"Mama spent a lot on the food, more'n usual," grumbles Frankie, hopping down from the statue.

"Ya she been workin hard all day and it sure does smell good. I'm not sure when the last time we had rabbit was. Seem like every day it be corn bread and peas."

The shrill voice of their mother makes Cynthia Ann nearly leap into the air.

"I be she gonna be made if we late to dinner.."

Frankie grabs her hand. "D'you love me, sissy?"

"I always love you, Frankie"

And she had since she was for the most part the one to cook, dress and otherwise provide for him since papa had died.

She tames his hand and squeezes back like she will never let go.

"I love you too," whispered Frankie, and he follows a step behind, slowing her down as they make their way back.

For a brief moment Cynthia Ann considered taking her btother's hand and leading him into the forest. To where? It didn't matter. Even starving or freezing or falling victim to animals might be easier than watching their mother go crazier and crazier. However strong those thoughts were it was too late because it only took them that moment to make it back to their rinky dink old shack.

The smell of rabbit stew filled the air on their way back home. With cookin like that maybe pa would be home?

"Come on, dears," said their mama with uncharacteristic sweetness. "You two should come in and have a sit down meal." She leads them into the old tired kitchen where three stumps and a rickety stool stand guard around a crate covered in an old sheet. "C'mon, dears, take a seat. Mama'll have the table all set in a ready instant."

Frankie's eyes remain downcast as he takes a seat on one of the stumps.

Mama starts ladeling stew into bowls and rips off some crusty, buttered bread, fresh from the oven, that she puts down beside the bowl -- first before Frankie, then in front of Cynthia, before finally setting a place before herself. At least this time she didn't set anything down before papa's stool.

They all sit down to say grace.

But the grace turns out to be a little different this time, as Mama grips their hands with an iron strength and intones: "Oh, Crimson Mama, whose hands lift her favor sons and daughters up to the Heavens, bringin' them peace and joy, hallow be thy name! For you are the true Queen of all and we bow before yer might. As them men said when I asked 'em, you's there for us when none of them rest of them are, and when that Christian God ain't either, but let all disbelievers quake 'cause I know the righteous path!"